


The Secret Life of Mrs. Prudence Stanley

by 912luvjaxlean



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Memories, flashfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 22:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/912luvjaxlean/pseuds/912luvjaxlean
Summary: Sometimes food is all we have.





	The Secret Life of Mrs. Prudence Stanley

And, there must be a schedule. If there is a schedule, there is order. And, without order, there is chaos.

Mrs. Prudence Stanley lived by these rules daily. Every member of her staff knew to the minute, what was expected at any given time of day. Meals, of course, were planned. Planned right down to the tiniest detail. Meals were very important to Mrs. Stanley, even if she often ate alone.

There was plenty on her plate, and plenty on her table, and plenty in the pantry. She knew no want of ingredient, spice, or flavor. Cook was excellent. Mrs. Stanley had persuaded her to leave Lydia Brownley’s employ and come to work for her. Lydia accused Prudence of stealing Cook.

“All I did, dear Lydy,” Prudence had explained, “was wander out into the kitchen, meet Cook, complement her on her Scallop Pie and mention I was very impressed.”

“After which Cook gave notice and went to work for you,” said her friend. “I value your friendship, but you often come in like a freight train and expect to get your own way.”

Mrs. Prudence Stanley pursed her lips and left it at that. Relations must be maintained, after all.  Even though Lydy had married beneath her and had said some unkind things against their mutual friend, Hildy. And, Lydy really didn’t appreciate fine dining, always on a reducing diet for some reason.

Cook was happy with her new place and the rise in wages. And, with a happy Cook, Mrs. Prudence Stanley was pleased. And, looking forward to so many tasty treats. On schedule, of course.

Hot chocolate precisely at 8:42 a.m. each and every morning that she was in residence. Three biscuits of some sort on the special commemorative plate that celebrated Queen Victoria’s Jubilee. Madeleines were Mrs. Stanley’s favorite, but those little lemon biscuits that Cook offered on Tuesdays and Thursdays went down well, too.

Elevenses with Darjeeling tea and a muffin or two. Letter writing, correspondence, phone calls and then Lunch. Variables included:

If at home and if a committee meeting before hand, a nice buffet.

If at home and if friends, a cold collation.

If at home and a special guest, Scallop Pie and some wine and conversation.

If her niece, Phryne, who tended to just pop in between Lunch and Tea, martinis and some savory.

Mrs. Prudence Stanley was quite fond of her niece, her only sister’s only living child. Phryne was a BYT, which stood for Bright Young Thing, as was her only living son, Guy. As were their contemporaries. As far as their elder could see, BYTs had no schedules, didn’t like it orderly and thrived on chaos.

Yes, times were changing, especially since The Great War. So much lost forever. Never to return. Things like modest dresses, her niece and daughter-in-law prime examples of the Not Enough Material to Cover the Body, style of dressing. Skin was on display everywhere. One didn’t know where to look half the time. Shamelessness. It was all very unsettling.

And that is why one must keep to the schedule. Only in that way can one remain civilized and in control.

Full Tea, of course, when at home.

Cook liked to surprise Mrs. Stanley with lovely little treats and nibbly bits and tarts and all manner of delights. And, really Tea was quite the best part of the day. Something to look forward to, even if her son, Arthur, was no longer there to share it with her. Vanilla custard was something he always loved and there was always a serving of it for him, even if he was gone.

That custard would be the last thing Mrs. Prudence Stanley ate at Tea. She would spoon it slowly into her mouth and think of her dead son. How much she missed him. How much he loved vanilla custard. How much she missed him.

It was all too much. Feeling too much. That is why we have our schedule which gives us order. After tea, therefore, we have a little walk. This took care of doctor’s orders for more exercise, dreadful concept. And, was also the duty she paid to her dead.

After Tea, the short walk to the family graveyard to visit her son, her husband and little Janey, her murdered niece. She was now too corpulent to tidy the graves, the grounds man did that.  But, Mrs. Prudence Stanley could leave a bloom from the conservatory and share one of the breakfast biscuits with her absent family.

She nibbled the biscuit slowly and recalled past times past. Loved ones still with her. Spontaneity. Laughter. All four of the children, Phryne, Guy, Arthur, and Janey, splashing in the bathing pool. Playing together. Her husband, Edward, laughing at their antics and holding her hand. Reassuring her when she mentioned that it was almost past Tea for the children. Saying, They’re only young once, Kitty. Let them play.

Biscuit done. Crumbs scattered to the ground, fingers wiped on the small serviette the biscuit had been shrouded in, Mrs. Prudence Stanley turned her back on the past and moved on.

Thoughts of dinner accompanied her on her slow return to her orderly life.


End file.
